Hello, Ginny!
by Aeterna
Summary: Years into the future, recently widowed Ginny Potter turns her attention to the half-millionaire, Draco Malfoy. On an escapade to London, Ron Weasley falls in love with the also recently widowed Hermione Molloy. Sound familiar? It's Hello Dolly! HP style!
1. Prologue: Call on Ginny

Hello, Ginny!  
  
A/N: Hello! ::bows politely:: I'm Aeterna, a music nut and Harry Potter fan. I was just recently in the pit for my school's production of Hello, Dolly! and I figured that I could make a spoof of Hello Dolly! involving our favorite HP characters! For those of you who are familiar to the musical (or even if you've never seen it before), I have a few pointers ...  
  
1.) The characters (in order of importance) are as follows ...  
Ginny Weasley = Dolly Gallagher Levi  
Draco Malfoy = Horace Vandergelder  
Ron Weasley = Cornelius Hackl  
Hermione Granger = Irene Molloy  
Neville Longbottom = Barnaby Tucker  
Eloise Midgeon = Minnie Fay  
Ermengarde will be Draco's daughter (with his deceased wife) instead of his niece seeing that Draco doesn't have any siblings.  
Ambrose Kemper will be a dashing young muggle artist who has stolen Ermengarde's heart (eat your heart out, Draco!).  
!!CHANGE!! I made a little change. Before, Ginny was Ginny Weasley Levi because I didn't know what to call her, but now I've decided that I'd rather have her be Ginny Weasley Potter, for obvious reasons. Hermione is still Hermione Granger Molloy because she still has yet to marry Ron.  
  
2.) The chapters will be named after Hello, Dolly! songs, but, for instance, instead of the prologue title 'Call On Dolly', it will be 'Call On Ginny'. On the other hand, whenever I quote songs from the musical in the text, the original characters' names will be used because it would seem quite absurd if I put:  
Out there ...  
There's a world outside of Ottery St. Catchpole.  
Way out there beyond this hick-town, Neville ...  
That wouldn't work very well, now would it?  
  
3.) I'm not actually much of a Draco/Ginny fan, but I couldn't have Harry try to be Vandergelder, now could I?  
  
Well that seems to be all the pointers you'll need ... at least for now.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Hello, Dolly!, but I love both of them. Can you blame me for wanting to write about them?  
  
Prologue: Call On Ginny  
  
~~*~*~~  
  
Call on Dolly.  
She's the one the spinsters recommend.  
Just name the kind of man your sister wants  
And she'll snatch him up.  
Don't forget to bring your maiden aunts  
And she'll match 'em up!  
Call on Dolly!  
If your eldest daughter needs a friend.  
  
~~*~*~~  
  
"Ambrose Kemper! Just the man I wanted to see!" Ginny said excitedly as she raced over to the dashing young muggle and shook his hand and handed him a business card at the same moment.  
  
"Ginny Potter ..." Ambrose read the business card aloud, "muggle matchmaker miracle worker?"  
  
"I do assume young Ermengarde has told you ...?" Ginny inquired, purposefully leaving the question unfinished.  
  
"That she's a witch?"  
  
"Precisely." Ginny took Ambrose's hand and pulled him to a nearby bench. "There's only one problem, Mr. Kemper."  
  
"And what's that?" Ambrose asked as he sat down, seeming extremely confused.  
  
"Her father, Mr. Draco Malfoy, the well-known half-millionaire ..." she paused for a good effect, "isn't too fond of muggles."  
  
"Excuse me, Mrs. Potter," Ambrose said very politely, "but what exactly is a muggle?"  
  
"Why you are a muggle, Mr. Kemper!" Ginny said with an air of knowledge, "That's what us witches and wizards call those of you who don't know magic."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"But don't worry, Mr. Kemper, I have the entire situation under control. You see, I am currently ..." she paused as if searching for a word, "engaged to find Mr. Malfoy a new wife, and with any luck, my operation will be so successful, that he may even be obliged to dance at your wedding."  
  
"Will he, now?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"I'm very sorry, Mrs. Potter, but I have a few commitments that I must see to." Ambrose said, getting up from the bench, "I hope to see you later?"  
  
"Yes, of course, Mr. Kemper!" Ginny said, also rising from her seat, "I have my own duties to attend to."  
  
~~*~*~~  
  
I have always been a woman who arranges things.  
It's my duty to assist the Lord above.  
I have always been a woman who arranges things  
Like lunceon parties, poker games, and love.  
  
~~*~*~~  
  
"Well, Harry," Ginny said to her late husband, as she was in the habit of doing lately, "I've found myself a new husband. I'm going to marry Draco Malfoy ... for his money, of course. It won't be love like you and I had, but it will be something. With my newfound privelage as the wife of the first citizen of Ottery St. Catchpole, I'll send his money circulating the village like rainwater, just like you taught me. And I can help him to love me. I know I can." She stopped and looked around for a second. "I just need a sign, Harry. I need a sign that you approve of this marriage."  
  
She waited for a few seconds and sighed.  
  
"Maybe later?" she asked the thin air hopefully. After a glance around to make sure nobody was watching, she apparated home.  
  
~~*~*~~  
  
Continued in Chapter One: It Takes a Woman. 


	2. Chapter One: It Takes a Woman

Chapter One: It Takes a Woman  
  
A/N: This chapter was especially fun to write. When Draco's conceit and vanity is made comical, it really does make it interesting to write! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!  
  
~~*~*~~  
  
"But father, you're not being fair!" young Ermengarde Malfoy shrieked at her father, Draco.  
  
"And how exactly am I not being fair?" Draco asked incredulously, "I have given you a comfortable life and a fine education. What more do you want?"  
  
"I want to marry Ambrose Kemper!" Ermengarde yelled.  
  
"You will do no such thing!" Draco yelled back, "Mr. Kemper is a poor mudblood! You know better than to associate with his kind!"  
  
"But I love him!"  
  
"If you dare to marry him, I'll cut you off without a knut to your name!" Draco threatened, "Besides, you're too young to get married."  
  
"Too young?" Ermengarde asked angrily, "I'm eighteen! I've already graduated Hogwarts!"  
  
"And a fine embarrasment you were!" Draco spat, "Sorted into Hufflepuff! The Malfoy family has never been so dishonored!"  
  
"THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH HUFFLEPUFF!!!!" Ermengarde bellowed before she stormed away.  
  
Draco looked as he was about to kick something, but he refrained from this, seeing that he was in his own antique shop with customers browsing the aisles. They had all looked up at him, but after a quick dose of his icy glare, they went back to their business.  
  
"Ron Weasley!" he yelled.  
  
The red-headed clerk dashed out from behind the counter, his assistant, Neville, not too far behind. "You yelled, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked in mock politeness.  
  
"Yes, I did." Draco said, too preoccupied to notice Ron's insult, "I have an announcement to make. I'm going out of town tomorrow, and when I return, you will have a new mistress."  
  
"Oh, but Mr. Malfoy," Neville said, looking a bit shocked, "I couldn't possibly --"  
  
"Not you, dummy!" Draco yelled, getting more sidelong glances from customers, "Er ... I mean, I'm getting married again, and in honor of that occasion, I'll be naming you, Ron Weasley, the new chief clerk."  
  
Ron looked at Draco blankly for a second. "... and what am I now, Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
Draco fixed him with a menacing stare. "Right now, you're an impotent fool, and I'm promoting you from impotent fool to chief clerk. Any more questions?"  
  
Ron met Draco's stare, but in the end, he resignedly said, "No."  
  
Draco watched disenchantedly as his two employees went back to work.  
  
~~*~*~~  
  
It takes a woman all powdered and pink  
To joyously clean out the drain in the sink,  
And it takes an angel with long golden lashes  
And soft dresden fingers for dumping the ashes.  
  
Oh, yes, it takes a woman,  
A dainty woman,  
A sweetheart, a mistress, a wife.  
Oh, yes, it takes a woman,  
A fragile woman,  
To bring you the sweet things in life!  
  
~~*~*~~  
  
"Fools!" Draco said angrily to himself as he walked down the street, "Half the people in the world are fools! ... and the rest of us are in grave danger of being contaminated." He stopped for a moment, looking thoughtful. "Why, even I was once young and foolish. I got married and had a daughter, which was foolish of me, and then we were poor, which was also foolish, and then she died, the old fool! But then I got smart, you see. I saved up my money and bought my antique shop, and now I'm the richest person in this fool of a town!" He laughed and started walking again, his disposition considerably sunnier.  
  
"So I suppose you're wondering," he said to no one in particular, "why a man as wise and dignified as myself ..." he paused for the effect, "would want to get married again. Well, the answer is simple. My house just isn't the same without a woman in it. It's getting cold ... and a bit dirty. There are certain comforts and necessities that only a woman can give, and I feel that I deserve them now that I've made a name for myself. So, you see, what I'm doing isn't foolish, in fact, it's very wise of me, which is saying a lot, considering how wise I am in the first place."  
  
~~*~*~~  
  
And in the winter, she'll shovel the ice  
And lovingly set out the traps for the mice.  
She's a joy and treasure, for, practically speaking,  
To whom can you turn when the plumbing is leaking?  
  
To that dainty woman,  
That fagile woman,  
That sweetheart, that mistress, that wife.  
Oh, yes, it takes a woman,  
A husky woman,  
To bring you the sweet things in life!  
  
~~*~*~~  
  
"Congratulations! Congratulations!" Ginny said, approaching Draco as he walked down the street, "A thousand congratulations! ... and sympathies."  
  
"Sympathies?!" Draco asked incredulously.  
  
"Oh, did I say that?" Ginny asked, looking completely innocent, "It was a mere slip of the tongue."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"The entire town is buzzing with the news: you've practically proposed to Mrs. Hermione Malloy! ... although, you know what they say ..."  
  
"What do they say?" Draco asked curiously.  
  
"Oh, but I'm not one to believe in rumors! No! Not me!" Ginny went on, partially ignoring Draco for the moment.  
  
"What rumors?"  
  
"It's nothing, really, Mr. Malfoy," Ginny said innocently, "It's just that ... well ... Mrs. Molloy's late husband passed on so ... suddenly. Just one spoonful of chowder that she made especially for him ... and POOF! He's gone!" she paused a second, "Dead, I mean."  
  
"Mrs. Potter, do you mean to say --?" Draco asked, only to be cut off by Ginny.  
  
"I mean to say nothing, Mr. Malfoy!" Ginny exclaimed, "Just a word of advice ... eat out."  
  
"Well, rumors or no rumors, I plan to visit Mrs. Molloy tomorrow afternoon as planned." Draco said in a very down-to-businness tone of voice.  
  
"All right then." Ginny said, looking disappointed, "I'll just have to tell the other girl ... the heiress ... not to wait."  
  
"What did you say?" asked Draco impatiently upon heairing the word, 'heiress.'  
  
"Oh, nothing, Mr. Malfoy." she paused, "A word ... heiress."  
  
Draco practically fumed. "Particulars, Mrs. Potter, I demand particulars!" he said, "Her name?"  
  
"Her name ..." Ginny said, rubbing her fingers together as she racked her brain for a name, " ... Money!" she said at last, "Ernestina Money!"  
  
"That's a nice name." Draco said, looking pleased.  
  
On a sudden burst of inspiration, Ginny rushed over to Draco's side, talking animatedly, "Picture, if you will, hair as shiny as a newly minted sickle ... eyes as big and round as gold galleons ... and skin as soft and smooth as ... as a brand new velvet money bag." she finished triumphantly.  
  
"Ah," Draco said, getting absorbed into Ginny's description, "I can feel her now ..."  
  
Ginny smiled and went on, "Age, nineteen. Weight, one hundred and two. Waist, forty-seven."  
  
Draco was snapped out of his reverie. "Forty-seven?!"  
  
Ginny was quick to respond. "That's with the money belt, of course!"  
  
"Ah."  
  
" ... and she'll be willing to meet you tomorrow afternoon." Ginny concluded.  
  
"No," Draco said, "because I have to take my daughter to London tomorrow to forget ... a certain young man, and then I have to be in the Diagon Alley Parade."  
  
"The Diagon Alley Parade?" Ginny asked, her eyes widening.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well, what a coincidence!" Ginny exclaimed gleefully, "You'll never believe who will be riding the main float, 'the Spirit of Diagon Alley' ... Miss Money herself!"  
  
"All right." Draco said, "I'll meet her."  
  
"I'll arrange everything!" Ginny said as she turned to leave.  
  
"Mrs. Potter?" Draco asked.  
  
Ginny turned back around. "Yes?"  
  
"What if I decide against Mrs. Molloy and I don't like this Money girl either?"  
  
"Well," Ginny said, unable to hold back a sly grin, "I just so happen to have another name up my sleeve ... a name I know as well as my own ... but all in it's own time! I really must be going, Mr. Malfoy." With that, she turned and walked away.  
  
~~*~*~~  
  
Continued in Chapter Two: Put On your Sunday Clothes. 


	3. Chapter Two: Put On Your Sunday Clothes

Chapter Two: Put On your Sunday Clothes  
  
A/N: A few quick notes. If you've been following this story, I've decided to change Ginny's name from Ginny Weasley Levi to Ginny Weasley Potter because I was starting to feel sorry for poor Harry since he was completely disincluded in this fic. He now takes the place of Dolly's beloved and belated Ephriam Levi.  
  
~~*~*~~  
  
Out there,  
There's a world outside of Yonkers;  
Way out there beyond this hick-town, Barnaby,  
There's a slick town, Barnaby!  
  
Out there,  
Full of shine and full of sparkle.  
Close your eyes and see it glisten, Barnaby.  
Listen, Barnaby!  
  
~~*~*~~  
  
"Chief clerk, Neville," Ron said angrily after Draco left the shop, "After five years, I've been promoted from chief clerk to chief clerk." He looked ready to kick something. Neville, noticing this, began to inch away a bit. "And in another five years, will I be promoted to chief clerk again?"  
  
"Oh, it's not so bad, Ron." Neville said cautiously.  
  
"Not so bad?" Ron asked incredulously, "We barely get paid anything, we work our butts off for hours every day, and we almost never get a vacation!"  
  
"We get vacations sometimes." Neville said.  
  
"Do you remember what happened last Christmas?" Ron asked, not really expecting an answer, "Let me refresh your memory. Some kids just out of Hogwarts decided to play a little joke on us and broke all of the self-serving china all over the floor! Malfoy comes back, blames us, and we have to spend the entire 'vacation' picking up little shards of china ... without magic! Do you call that a vacation?"  
  
"Well, no ... but --"  
  
"I've had enough of this, Neville." Ron said vehemently, "I think it's about time we had a vacation. Neville, you and I are going to London."  
  
Neville looked absolutely flabbergasted. "London?" he asked, wide eyed, "But we just can't do that! What about Mr. Malfoy?!"  
  
"He's going out of town, isn't he?" Ron asked, a mischievious twinkle in his eye.  
  
Neville still wasn't convinced. "But what about the shop?" he asked.  
  
"What if ... say ... a couple of these china sets got smashed," Ron said, picking up a tea pot and holding it a little too clumsily right above the hard wood table, "and we got shards of china all over Malfoy's precious berber carpet?" He put the tea pot down. "We'd simply have to close the shop, now wouldn't we?"  
  
"I don't know ..." Neville said uncertainly.  
  
"We'd go to London, have a wonderful time, come back, magic up the mess, and get back to work before Malfoy ever knew what was going on!" Ron said, very pleased with his plan.  
  
Neville remained silent.  
  
"And that's not all, Neville," Ron said excitedly, "We're not coming back until both of us have kissed ourselves a girl."  
  
"What?" Neville sputtered, "Have you gone nutters? We can't just go to London and kiss a girl! Besides, you've never kissed a girl before, unless you count your mother."  
  
"I'm thirty-five years old, Neville," Ron complained, "I've got to start somewhere."  
  
"Yeah, well I'm still thirty-four, and it's not that urgent for me."  
  
"Come on, Neville," Ron urged, "just imagine it! London ... the lights of Diagon Alley ... the Floating Ferry ... the stuffed dragon ..."  
  
"Hold on," Neville said, "the stuffed what?"  
  
"The stuffed dragon at the Magical History Museum." Ron said, taking the opportunity to pull Neville into the plot.  
  
"Can you really stuff a dragon?" Neville asked in amazement.  
  
"You can stuff a dragon." Ron said in a satisfied voice.  
  
"The lights of Diagon Alley ..." Neville repeated, "... the Floating Ferry ... and the stuffed dragon ..." He paused for a second, apparently deep in thought, "All right. Let's go to London."  
  
~~*~*~~  
  
Put on your sunday clothes, there's lots of world out there.  
Get out the brilliantine and dime cigars.  
We're gonna find adventure in the evening air!  
Girls in white in a perfumed night,  
Where the lights are bright as the stars!  
  
Put on your sunday clothes, we're gonna ride through town  
In one of those new horse-drawn open cars.  
We'll see the shows at Delmonico's  
And we'll close the town in a whirl,  
And we won't come home until we've kissed a girl!  
  
~~*~*~~  
  
"Well, Ermengarde, Ambrose, I hope you have everything packed," Ginny said excitedly, "We're going to London!"  
  
"But why?" Ermengarde looked confused, and, for that matter, so did Amrose, who was standing beside her.  
  
"We've got to show Draco Malfoy that we mean business," Ginny said in a matter-of-fact tone, "and to do that, you have to prove that you are capable of supporting yourselves. There's a lovely restaurant in Diagon Alley called the Begonia Gardens. They have a dancing competition ... the winner gets five hundred galleons and the Begonia Gardens cup. Oh, the cups won by Harry and me!"  
  
"I'm not dancing!" Ermengarde said stubbornly.  
  
"Why ever not?" Ginny asked in surprise.  
  
"Because I don't want to!"  
  
"I don't know, Mrs. Potter, are you sure about this?" Ambrose asked uncertainly.  
  
"Of course I am!"  
  
~~*~*~~  
  
Put on your sunday clothes when you feel down and out.  
Strut down the street and have your picture took.  
Dressed like a dream, your spirits seem to turn about!  
That sunday shine is a certain sign  
That you feel as fine as you look!  
  
Beneath your parasol the world is all a smile  
That makes you feel brand new down to your toes!  
Get out your feathers, your patent leathers,  
Your beads and buckles and bows,  
For there's no blue monday in your sunday clothes!  
  
~~*~*~~  
  
"All right, Neville, just a little higher," Ron said as Neville floated an expensive teapot up in the air, "Now! Drop it!" The teapot hit the floor, sending shards of broken porcelain flying in all directions.  
  
"Hey, this is kinda fun!" Neville said as he Wingardium Leviosaed a teacup into the air, letting it crash inches away from where the pot had landed.  
  
"See? What'd I tell you?" Ron said, grinning, "You're going to have the time of your life, I promise!" Ron punctuated this by sending a teacup flying across the room to crash into the wall. "Is that all?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," Neville said, "I believe it is!"  
  
"Great!" Ron exclaimed, "Now we can go to London!"  
  
"And see the stuffed dragon!" Neville put in.  
  
~*^*~  
  
Ermengarde, keep smiling, no man wants a little ninny!  
Ambrose, do a turn, let me see.  
Mr. Hackl, Mr. Tucker, don't forget Irene and Minnie,  
Just forget you ever heard a word from me!  
  
All aboard! All aboard! All aboard!  
Put on your sunday clothes, there's lots of world out there!  
Put on your silk high hat and platinum shoes!  
We're gonna find adventure in the evening air!  
To town we'll trek to a smoky spot  
Where the girls are hot as a fuse!  
  
Put on your silk high hat and let the turn apply!  
And wear a hand-made gray suede button,  
We're gonna take New York by storm!  
We'll join the asters and and Tony casters,  
And this I'm positive of,  
That we won't come home,  
No, we won't come home,  
No, we won't come home until we fall in love!  
  
~~*~*~~  
  
"Oh, what do you know?" Ginny said as a group of people suddenly appeared out of nowhere, clutching a grimy-looking sock and appearing a bit whoozy, "The portkey is here!"  
  
"But I don't like traveling by portkey!" Ermengarde complained, "I'm taking Apparators' Training, can't I practice?"  
  
"I don't want to take any chances." Ginny said practically, grabbing a hold of the grimy sock, followed by Ambrose, Ermengarde, and two young men that Ginny thought looked familiar, but before she could place them, the portkey sent her flying toward Diagon Alley.  
  
~~*~*~~  
  
A/N2: My sincere apologies for the prolonged absence of an update to this fic. It was the result of a writers' block and the end of school (darned exams :P). Anyway, I hope to have the next part out very soon ... and you get to meet Hermione! Also, I don't think I got all the lyrics right (I was transcripting it by listining to the song and I didn't catch a few words), so if you see a mistake (or two, or three ...) don't hesitate to bring it to my attention (Aeterna16@aol.com).  
  
Continued in Chapter Three: Ribbons Down My Back. 


End file.
